


for the right price

by Darkfromday



Category: Compilation of Final Fantasy VII, Final Fantasy VII Remake (Video Game 2020)
Genre: F/M, Minor FF7 Remake Spoilers, Rooftop Moments, Sharing a Bed, can't believe I'm finally writing another cloti, quiet moments with your memory gaps and your not-quite-wife
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-14
Updated: 2020-06-14
Packaged: 2021-03-03 04:14:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,013
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24188722
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Darkfromday/pseuds/Darkfromday
Summary: It's late. Tifa wants some company. Cloud thinks he can oblige.
Relationships: Tifa Lockhart & Cloud Strife, Tifa Lockhart/Cloud Strife
Comments: 20
Kudos: 115





	for the right price

**Author's Note:**

> my friend: "you need to write a 2020 FF7 Tifa and Cloud fanfic"
> 
> my brain: say no more
> 
> [Set before the dream team gets attacked by Whispers and then sets off to blow Mako Reactor 5 and stick it to the man.]

_Contact._

Cloud opens his eyes sharply, immediately alert, and the first thing he notices is the peeling paint on the ceiling of his tiny room. Little gray flakes are coming off. One of them probably drifted down, hit his forehead, and woke him up—not that he'd managed to fall that deeply asleep.

_Another rough night._

He looks at the window, and sees—darkness. Not even the kind that predates dawn. It's still nighttime; stars are twinkling at him through the window above his head. 

_What time is it?_

He doesn't _really_ want to know, but his eyes betray him; a glance at the rinky-dink clock he got from one of the item shops yesterday makes him hiss through his teeth and hit his head back against the bed.

_One A.M._

He hasn't even been asleep for two hours.

_Another sleepless night, more like._

There's no way he'll be able to drift off again. His pillow is too soft. Even this old _mattress_ is too soft. Back in SOLDIER—

Static hisses across his vision. Cloud winces, clutching his forehead.

_Right, never mind. Best not to think about that._

He forces himself up instead, swings his legs over and stumbles out of bed. This room is all right when he's unconscious but not very stimulating when he's awake. If sleep isn't on the menu right now, maybe fresh air will clear his head until it is.

For the first time in the three days he's been here, he leaves the sword on the wall.

No clue _why_ he does it—it was beaten into him, _always be armed, nowhere is safe_ —except maybe that he isn't going far. There's a ladder propped up on the far side of the second floor (Merle's addition, no doubt) that leads up to a tiny rooftop where pigeons roost. From that pseudo-third floor Cloud can see nearly all of Sector 7. It's kind of soothing.

All he has to do is pass the room with that sick weirdo, _not_ think about how sick weirdo's room is now between him and the sword, and climb up to take a breather.

_Easy._

Cloud still keeps his eyes on the door the whole time he passes it.

A minute later, he's startling pigeons as he sits down on an old treasure chest doubling as a chair and looks out at the slums below. Not a soul is out at this hour, though lights from storefronts flash here and there to keep the beasts away. Somewhere in the distance, he thinks he can hear... cats yowling? Hmm. _Wedge needs to feed them more._

But other than them, it's quiet enough. The artificial light from the plate above shines down. A breeze comes through and ruffles his blond spikes. Cloud breathes in, and allows his muscles to relax.

"...Cloud?"

He doesn't startle—but his neck swivels toward the voice so hard it hurts.

"Tifa."

She's at the stairs— _on_ them, actually, having paused in the middle of climbing up and off. Her tied-off hair waves in the wind the same as always, but her hands are bare of gloves for the first time since they met again. He can pick out the calluses on them as clearly as he can see the tiny tired lines on her heart-shaped face, even from several feet away.

"Didn't mean to scare you," she says, with a hint of teasing.

"I wasn't scared. Just caught a bit off guard."

"Our big strong SOLDIER, caught off guard?"

" _Ex_ -SOLDIER," he corrects automatically, though another twinge of static makes him wince.

Something undefinable comes into Tifa's eyes, but she doesn't comment or ask him if he's all right this time. She finishes climbing the ladder gracefully and dusts herself off once she's solidly on his level. Cloud tries and fails not to watch her do it, but there's something... _alluring_... about watching his old friend have a care for her looks. There's a moment where she steps forward, then pauses like she's waiting for his okay to get any closer—and he's quick to give it to her. Five years apart, and he'd still give her anything.

She joins him right at the edge of the balcony, folding her arms and leaning on the wooden banister. From where he's perched, Cloud catches the faintest whiff of some flowery scent she's never had before. His body perks up with his nose—because it smells like the flower he gave her a few days ago, the one he got from that girl in the street. He'd worn it close enough on his own chest to remember the smell.

_Has she been wearing it on her when she isn't with me?_

"Looks like you couldn't sleep either," Tifa says. Her voice snaps him back to the present.

"Yeah."

Her eyes dart over to him, shining brilliantly red in the moonlight. "Everything okay? I know I haven't been able to hang around for a few days..."

"It's fine." Cloud knows Tifa is busy. She's got to run that bar, Seventh Heaven, most nights—and during the day she's here and there, running errands for her friends and neighbors in the Sector 7 slums. And that's not even counting moonlighting as one of the main faces of Barret's branch of Avalanche, tearing down reactors while innocent Midgar citizens are sleeping. _Everyone_ knows Tifa here, and everyone wants a piece of her—even just a shred of her attention. He knows he was lucky to get any himself. Their years-long friendship and her free time after the reactor job are probably the only reasons why she was able to show him around the slums and get him situated with jobs and a bed.

All that doesn't mean Cloud hasn't... missed her.

But none of that's safe to let on. He goes in another direction instead: "You've got a lot to do. I'm okay without a babysitter for a bit."

"A 'babysitter'?"

"A partner, then," Cloud amends. "For the jobs. Can't call myself much of a merc if I can't do things on my own."

Tifa smiles. "I don't know... going around town today, I've been hearing an awful lot about this really great one who's always up for any job and never leaves a thing unfinished. They say he's a bit rough around the edges, but nothing a drink or two won't fix."

"People said all that?" He wasn't aware his reputation had skyrocketed so quickly.

Her eyes sparkle. "Do you doubt me?"

"Never," Cloud says at once, and savors the pleased look that blooms on her face. It's the truth: there has never been a moment in his life where he's lost faith in Tifa Lockhart. She is as sturdy as her fists; reliable as the sun coming up in the morning and setting at night.

Tifa turns her attention back to the overview of Sector 7. The plate light illuminates part of her face as she leans out to see her sleeping home. He can more clearly see where the stress lines on her face lie, right around her pale pink lips and in the corners of her eyes. But he knows Tifa; he _knows_ she'll stand up here with him all night and not talk about what bothered her enough to come looking for him in the first place. She had said _you couldn't sleep either_ , but she won't say what's kept her up. She doesn't tell anyone her troubles unless they push. And _she_ knows Cloud isn't normally the type to push.

Normally.

Things are different, though, when it comes to her. It's obvious to Cloud that something has gotten under Tifa's skin: she has been a live wire of restless energy for days. Her smiles seem forced. Her gloves stay on and her fists stay clenched, constantly ready for a fight; tonight, in fact, is the first time he has seen her bare hands since they were children. And there's a slight shake in those hands that he doesn't like.

Cloud normally doesn't push. He doesn't care to: people's problems are not his business, unless they've paid him to take an interest.

But this is _Tifa_. There is no problem she might have he doesn't care about. There's nothing she might struggle with where he isn't willing to help, whether she pays him or not.

Resolve pushes him to stand and join her at the tiny balcony. It's a tight squeeze; the space isn't meant for two people. She startles when he brushes shoulders with her—startles again when he takes off his own black gloves, and lays one of his hands over one of hers. But she doesn't move, and he doesn't move either. They just look at each other for a long moment, nearly nose-to-nose, with the hum of the lights and the whistle of the wind in the background.

Finally, Cloud swallows and speaks. Pushes. "...What's keeping you up?"

Tifa becomes very interested in their joined hands.

"Tifa."

"I'm sorry," she blurts almost immediately. "It's... there's a lot on my mind. I've been worrying about the bar, about the reactors, about Barret and Marlene, about the Planet..."

"About me?" _(Don't ask her that, idiot.)_

She shrugs in lieu of answering. It leaves Cloud at a standstill; usually _he's_ the taciturn one. What comes after pushing when it doesn't work?

He's not sure, so they stand silently together for a while. Another trace of that flower-scent drifts under his nose in the meantime. It's nice... makes him want to relax...

_Wait._

Cloud gives himself a hard mental shake. His posture had slipped just that quickly—he's almost leaning against Tifa now. _What the hell are you doing?_ But before he can move to correct himself, Tifa moves too. She leans her head against his shoulder, bare of its usual metal pad, and breathes out slow and easy; he feels the warmth of it on his arm.

It's nice. She smells nice. She _feels_ nice. But at the same time she feels just out of reach—because while they might make contact on accident, there is no way he could reach out and touch her on purpose.

"Cloud? I was wondering... could I hire you?"

 _Could you_ —

Turning sharply towards her, he says "Hmm?" when he actually means to say _What?!_

Tifa talks into his shoulder. "Just for the night. It might be easier... for me to talk about things, if it's to our local merc. You know, the one who always gets the job done... rough edges and all."

It's Cloud's instinct to say no. He's not the emotional type—he doesn't know how to handle other people's feelings. And most of his jobs are about killing rogue monsters or keeping the peace—not moonlighting as anyone's psychologist. But...

_But._

It's _Tifa_.

"You _might_ be able to hire me."

"Oh? Really?"

"Yeah. For the right price."

Tifa _hmms_ into his skin. It's tingly, and the longer she does it the more he thinks she's hiding a laugh. Luckily he _was_ half-joking—but he doesn't exactly know where he was going with it.

Fortunately, she seems more sure.

"I think I have it covered."

"Can you pay up front?"

"Sure can." Tifa sits up and flashes him a smile. She moves away, strolls back to the ladder, and pauses before the downward slide. Only then does she meet his eyes again. "If I have to, that is. But the job's not here, you know? You'll have to follow me once you're ready to get started."

And she disappears with the lightest _whoosh_ ; her hair whips teasingly behind her.

Cloud stares at the space where she was for a minute, taking in her words, her absence, and the lingering scent of that flower. There's really no choice: stay up here alone, trying to figure out what's bothering him, or trail after his old friend and bring her some kind of peace on this seemingly-endless night?

Between one breath and the next, he trots over to the ladder and slides down himself, off to collect his fee.

 _Ready or not_.

**Author's Note:**

> me at every opportunity over the past two months: Tifa is my WIFE, she is my KICKASS WIFE and I want NOTHING but the BEST for her,
> 
> (thanks for reading~)


End file.
